


The Gentle Art of Domesticity

by Sapphy, SapphyWatchesYouSleep (Sapphy)



Series: Unbalanced 'verse [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: About psychopaths, Birthday Party, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, Gen, Happy Ending, M/M, Pure Unadulterated Fluff, The packs are all grown up, Timestamp, and serial killers, dark!stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 08:23:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/720928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphy/pseuds/Sapphy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphy/pseuds/SapphyWatchesYouSleep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Domestic bliss isn't something Peter expected to find. But he's finding it rather suits him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gentle Art of Domesticity

**Author's Note:**

> I can't stop writing happy fics. I don't know what's wrong with me, but I don't like it.
> 
> Feel free to ask if you're wondering what any characters are up to at this point in the 'verse. It's worrying how much detail I've planned out their lives in.

Peter sits in the armchair closest to the window, book open but ignored on his lap, and watches his boy work. Not so much of a boy now, 27 last month and more beautiful than ever.

His knife is deft as it shapes the piece of wood in his hands, carving out a blade which, once it’s been hardened in the fire and had the runes and magical varnish added to it, will be as strong and sharp as steel. A commission from a Siren and her mate who want to use it in their bonding ceremony.

He’s watched Stiles make a dozen such weapons, but every time without fail, the sight of his lover’s hands, so sure and steady with the heavy blade, makes him want to push him down and lick every inch of him.

He puts aside his book and comes to stand behind his boy, presses his lips to the spot just behind Stiles’ ear that never fails to make him moan.

“Little red little red,” he murmurs into his lover’s soft skin, “I’m bored. Come play with me.”

Stiles huffs out a soft amused noise, but he puts down the knife and leans back against Peter’s chest. “If I don’t get this finished this week, I won’t get paid,” he says sternly. “And besides, you still haven’t cleaned up the bloodstains from last night.”

Peter smiles, partly at the memories, but mostly at having Stiles, firm and warm and pliant, in his arms.

Their intimate moment is interrupted by knocking on the cottage door.

“Whatever you’re doing, stop it at once and put your trousers on,” Allison’s voice calls.

“We’re dressed,” Stiles replies, and Allison comes in, waddling slightly under the weight of the child inside her. She and Scott have lost one child, a miscarriage in the second trimester, but she’s less than a month away from her due date, and Peter’s sure this child will be born alive. He can smell it on her, see it in the healthy flush of her cheeks, and the warm secret smile of prospective motherhood.

Stiles pulls away from Peter and kisses her, rubbing a hand over her swollen belly. He hasn’t even seen it yet, and already he’s as protective of the child as if it were his own. Peter understands. A pack’s first child is a big thing.

They go through to the small kitchen, and Peter pulls out a chair for her, and watches as she eases herself down into it, groaning slightly.

“How’re the arrangements for tonight going?”

“Good. Boyd got back last night, and Jackson and Danny will be arriving sometime today.”

“I can’t believe Jackson’s actually coming back from New York just for Scott’s birthday,” Stiles says, putting the kettle on. “He doesn’t even like Scott.”

“He’s not coming for Scott,” Peter says. “He’s coming to see you, and because Danny asked him too.”

“And because Lydia told him he was to be there or otherwise she’d tell everyone about all the designers and photographers he’s been boning,” Allison adds with a grin.

“How does Lydia know about them? She lives 200 miles from him.”

Allison shrugs. “She’s Lydia. Oh!” She claps her hands excitedly. “Isaac’s bringing a date!”

“It won’t last,” Peter says. “I followed them last week. She’s got no sense of humour.”

Stiles turns and punches him in the shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me! I thought we agreed, all pack gossip was to be passed on!”

“Ah, but Isaac is my pack, not yours. Telling you would have been betraying Isaac’s confidence.” Peter assumes an expression of smug but righteous indignation. Stiles sticks his tongue out at him. Behind them the kettle begins to boil.

“Tea?” Stiles asks.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Allison tells him sincerely.

He finds three mugs and puts bags of green tea in two, and one of little bags of his special ‘third trimester pregnancy tea’ he makes especially for Allison into the third.

Allison sighs with pleasure when he hands her the cup. “I don’t know what you put in this, but it’s wonderful,” she tells him.

“Nettle, ginger and raspberry leaf,” Stiles replies. “I got the recipe from a Witch in Fort Bragg. She said she used it in all six of her pregnancies.”

“Well it’s wonderful,” Allison says, taking an appreciative sip.

“You think Scott’s going to be okay with his party being held at the Hale house?” Stiles asks Allison, coming to sit opposite her with his own cup. Peter knows they’d already discussed it, more than once, but when it comes to the people he loves, Stiles worries.

“It’s really only Peter and Derek he doesn’t get on with,” Allison points out. “Besides, it’s the biggest house any of the packs own.”

They had had both packs in their little cottage for Stiles’ birthday, but it had been cramped.

A sudden thought strikes Peter. “You haven’t left my poor idiot of a nephew to do the decorating have you?”

Stiles snorts. “We’ll have a banner that says ‘you are 27’ on it, and nothing else.”

Allison smiles. “Erica is supervising. By which I mean telling him what to do while he grumbles and Lydia criticises everyone.”

“It’ll be lovely then,” Peter says with a smile. “No decorations would dare be less than perfectly stylish with those two glaring at them.”

“Is that everything?” Allison asks. “I keep thinking I’ve forgotten something.”

“Isaac’s doing the cake and puddings, I know Derek’s brought the meat because he made me help unload it,” Stiles says, ticking things off on his fingers. “Our fridge is overflowing with salads. Seriously. There’s so little room in there, we’ve just been eating dry bread all week. Lydia and Erica are sorting the decorations. Everything’s under control. All you have left to do is get Scott there.”

Allison nods, clearly reassured. “I should be able to manage that.” She begins the slow process of easing herself upright, Stiles giving her his arm to lean on.

“I’ll see you both at five then?” she asks, and they nod. Stiles escorts her to the door and says goodbye with another kiss and a florid compliment.

He comes back to the kitchen as her car drives away, and leans on the back of Peter’s chair, chin resting on the top of his head.

“Are you going to behave yourself tonight?” he asks, his voice full of fond teasing.

“I always behave myself,” Pete tells him sternly. “But tonight I shall be on my very best behaviour.” He half turns so that he can see Stiles’ face. “I know this is important to you, darling boy.”

Stiles kisses him, close mouthed and caste. “If you’re extra good, there’s a reward in it for you.”

“Oh really?” Stiles’ rewards are always worth earning.

“There’s a hunter in Chilula Falls who’s broken the code. I heard from Chris yesterday.” He pulls out Peter’s chair and straddles his lap, one hand coming up to play with the collar of the older man’s shirt. “So if you’re on your very best behaviour, then after the part I thought we might head over there. It’s only an hour’s drive.”

Peter smiles, teeth lengthening into fangs.

“And afterwards,” Stiles says, leaning forward to press the words into Peter’s lips, a promise and a tease, “you can fuck me while I’m still covered in their blood.”

Peter catches his boy’s mouth a searing kiss. Ten years together, and they’ve lost none of their fire.

“But first,” Stiles says, pulling back with a smile, “I’ve got a job to finish and you’ve got coleslaw to make.”


End file.
